


Addiction

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of supernaturalimagine's: Imagine being on Crowley’s radar after injuring the Winchesters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addiction

“Sammy! Sam?!” Dean races towards Sam as his body slinks to the floor, blood dribbling from his side and his right arm.

Dean clutches at Sam’s body examining the wounds. He is confused how Sam is falling unconscious when the blood loss is significantly less than what they are used to. But then he sees is. A tiny bleeding spot on Sam’s exposed side. Before Dean can even begin to imagine what Sam was injected with Sam stops breathing. Instantaneously Dean begins CPR completely oblivious to Y/N’s escape.

Y/N calmly wipes away the blood from her hands and blades on handkerchief that she always keeps tucked somewhere on her person. With her hands stuffed in her army jacket’s pockets Y/N calmly meanders the streets of New Mexico until the blare of ambulances tear through the streets. She watches with a slight smirk as they turn towards where she left Sam and Dean. Y/N gives a short sigh, wondering if she made the wrong move by facing them head on, by paralysing Sam with succinylcholine, but the thought quickly disappears. It was risky, but Y/N got all the information she needed. Her next experiment can continue as planned, but this time, from afar with less risk of being caught or killed.

Crowley idly listens to his underlings progress reports and their failed attempts to track down Amara. A younger demon with hair the color of firehouse red bricks comes charging in. She huffs and her hair sticks to her neck, wet and stick straight. Crowley raises an eyebrow impatiently waiting for her to explain her unannounced and unwanted appearance.

With her breathing somewhat even again, but the wheezing still slipping through, the demon speaks. “You asked me to report if there were any changes with the Winchesters.” She pauses as if to receive some sort of approval to continue. All she gets is the crowd's silence and Crowley’s lazy motion to continue. “Sam Winchester is in the hospital under watch. Apparently during a fight with an unknown woman he collapsed and stopped breathing.”

This tickles Crowley’s interest. “What do you know about this woman?” The response is less than satisfactory.

“Nothing sir. She doesn’t seem to be anything supernatural but..something's off about her.” The new demon lowers her gaze when Crowley’s face twists as if he just ate something unearthly sour.

“Well then, find me something. Next time I see you I expect something more substantial information about this woman.” Crowley relaxes back into his throne, his mind captivated with questions and images of what this woman may be like. For the first time in weeks since Amara left, his underlings can see that sparkle of life return to their King’s eyes, but they can't help but wonder how long this interest will last.

The female demon leaves, haste returning to her breathing and anxiety in her every step. She has never seen such a strong hunger in Crowley's eyes before. Whoever that mysterious woman is, she has captured Crowley's undivided attention. For better or worse.

Y/N looks through her case notes not fully paying attention to the eye witness accounts from her client’s brother-in-law about the man they saw sleeping with the client’s daughter. Sufficed to say that Pastor Macy is not too happy that someone’s been screwed his, as he relentlessly described, “precious flower” of a daughter. The man gave Y/N the chills but, hey, a part-time private eye has to pay her bills somehow. Even if it means doing these idiotic cases for self-righteous people with too much time, and money, on their hands.

Y/N sighs at the painfully simple solution to her pastor case, the alter boy, who's constantly at the house and everyone but the pastor has seen him practically dry hump the pastor’s daughter any time they think they’re alone. With a flick of her wrist to shut the thin file Y/N notices the fact that the hair on the back of her neck is sticking up and goosebumps cover her arms. She checks to make sure the knife chamber attached to her wrist underneath her long sleeves is loaded before peeking through her cheap blinds towards the cracked and pothole filled parking lot.

Standing in the parking lot is a slight woman with wispy red hair. She is glancing between her phone and Y/N's building for a good two minutes before approaching. The closer she gets the more chills that shoot through Y/N's body like free flowing electricity. It only takes seconds before the woman is out of Y/N's sight and she hears the distinctive sound of the chimes as her office door opens. Y/N's intrigued by the odd sensation just seeing this woman gives her. Specially that gut wrenching sense of needing to run till the ends of the earth. But, in a fleeting thought, Y/N wonders if that would be far enough away.

“Hello?” The woman dings the tiny service bell, impatiently waiting for Y/N to arrive. She saw Y/N's neatly kept Mirage out front. “This is Y/N's detective agency, right?”

Y/N walks towards her, at the ready for whatever may come. But, for now, she puts on her best initial attempt to smile. “Yes, how can I help you?”

The woman smiles exposing her misaligned, pearly white teeth. Y/N can almost count every single tooth. “Hi! I’m Larissa and I’m looking to see if you can find my friends.”

Y/N raises one of her eyebrows in suspicion and wonder, the false smile completely gone. Usually people come looking for someone to spy on their partners or find a lost pet, rarely are there cases when someone is actually searching for someone that is recently or has been missing for some time. Usually, they trust the authorities or have lost hope altogether.

Y/N spots a manila envelope under Larissa’s arm. Y/N nods towards the envelope and asks, “Do you have everything about them in there?”

Larissa is caught of guard, unsure of what Y/N means until she remembers the file that Crowley ordered to be kept on record about the Winchesters. “Oh, yes! I do.”

Y/N thinks Larissa seems sweet enough but knows better than to take things, especially people, at face value. Especially those that come across as naive. One bite was enough to teach her that lesson. “Follow me.”

They walk through a single doorway into Y/N’s private office that is void of any personal items and looks almost as empty as when Y/N signed the lease. Larissa takes a quick mental note of that, distraught that Y/N is more secretive than she first imagined. This job is going to be more difficult than she’d like. Y/N sits in her worn brown leather chair and leans forward with her hand outstretched.

“I’ll look through the file while you tell me more about the last time you saw your friends.” Y/N all but snatches the envelope from Larissa’s hand and meticulously opens the envelope.

“Well..um..the last time I saw Sam was when he was brought into the ER.” Considering the recent encounter with Sam and Dean Winchester Y/N feels her muscles momentarily tense at the mention of the name. “No one knew what happened and before any tests could come in both of them had disappeared. I’ve tried calling, texting, and got nothing.”

At the end of Larissa’s sentence Y/N notices a name on the back of a picture of a man in a cowboy hat drinking next to Dean. Y/N checks the back and sees the names Crowley and Dean Winchester written in neat cursive. Now this meeting is really beginning to to stink. Y/N tries to stop her gaze from hardening as you closes the file. Larissa gulps at Y/N's poor attempt at hiding her emotions and feels her body go hot.

Sensing the moment when people's fight or flight instincts kick in Y/N taps the small button under her desk. Every door and window goes into lockdown. No human will be capable of leaving. Y/N grabs her knife, a “demon blade” she bought off some dude just in case it was legit. Now she's glad that she did. Y/N slyly maneuvers Larissa's body against the wall, the woman's thick neck pressed firmly against the blade.

“Who sent you and why are you really here?” Y/N's frustration at being found so quickly rings through her tone in the form of a vicious snarl with every “r”.

“C-can you p-p-please move the knife?” Larissa is on the brink of tears, her pupils dancing across Y/N's face in disbelief. This woman is crazy is all she can think, but now it makes sense. This is how she momentarily took down the Winchesters.

Y/N's only response is to press the serrated edge further into Larissa's neck right into the artery. Y/N can almost feel Larissa's erratic heartbeat coursing through her fingers.

“Crowley sent me. He..he was interested on who would be capable of playing the Winchesters without being on anyone radar.” Larissa's sees the questions turning in Y/N's head. Each forming at a hundred miles a minute.

“Who's Crowley?” Probably the easiest question to answer before digging further into what his operation is.

“He's….the King of Hell.” It is almost an ashamed whisper, spoken underneath Larissa's ragged breathing. Y/N almost wants to plug Larissa's mouth shut because of the smell of rancid coffee on her breath.

“Then send him a message. If he's so curious about me then he better do his dirty work himself. I’m sure you'll tell him where to find me.” Y/N removes the demon blade from Larissa's throat and deactivates the lockdown.

With her ass settled back into her chair, Y/N waves Larissa off, keeping the file for further study. Maybe she can scrounge up some details about this Crowley character while she waits for his arrival. Larissa all but runs out, hands rubbing her tender neck and a ravenous craving for sweets to ease the headache that's forming.

Y/N stares at the photo of Dean with Crowley absentmindedly. Every scenario as to what the King of Hell may want with her runs through her head in the night. Before long the morning sunrise breaks in through Y/N's car window, illuminating every dark crevice in the alleyway.

Finished with her routine of returning her car back into a vehicle instead of a home, Y/N enters her office with her mind as blank as a fresh piece of paper.

“You rang.” A husky voice calls out. With her blade quickly in her hand Y/N enters a boxing position and the man chuckles. “Crowley, King of Hell, at your service.”

The dry sarcasm of his introduction isn't lost on Y/N. “Y/N, human. What do you want?”

Crowley rubs his beard before finally answering. “I want you.”

Y/N feels an uncontrollable shiver crawl it's way up her spine. “What do I get in return?”

“Protection. The Winchesters won't be able to touch you as long as you do as I say.”

Y/N can't deny that the potential deal is promising. Protection and the ability to test the Winchesters’ limits is beyond intriguing. As of right now, Y/N doesn't see a downside to taking it. So she does.

“Alright, let's do this. But, if I feel like I'm not getting enough out of this partnership, I'll leave.”

Just as quickly as the smile on Y/N's face came it turned into paralyzed confusion. Crowley lips caught hers in a less the chaste moment. Y/N could only feel him, as if by kissing her Crowley was enveloping her entire being. Y/N's senses were flooded with his soft musky and minty scent along with the feeling of his beard on her face, slightly rasping against her skin.

Crowley pulled away, a victorious grin on his round face. “Darling, I think we'll make a magnificent duo.”

Y/N can feel it in her bones. Whatever this partnership will bring, it is just going to bulldoze through her life. And she can't tell if it's excitement or fear that she feels that is making her heart pound in her ears and her knees weak. This man has started to change Y/N's life, for better or worse. But when she looks into Crowley's cavern like brown eyes she knows she's hooked on whatever he's selling. And Y/N can't wait for her next hit.

 

 


End file.
